


Doctor Who - Whouffaldi - This Human Life

by Samstown4077



Series: Whouffaldi [13]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Post Regeneration, Romance, otp, the best Shop in the universe, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: Being in his 15th regeneration, the Doctor still remembers his heartbroken 12 incarnation. He knows Clara Oswald is still out there. And his old regeneration also. Human 12.





	Doctor Who - Whouffaldi - This Human Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from Tumblr under a Whouffaldi Manip, suggesting after the Doctor regenerates his/her old selves not die, but become human, spending their life with the one soul/companion they loved the most. I also used a future regeneration of the Doctor, because that's another idea that spins round in my head for way too long. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Somewhere in the near future.

 

It’s not even winter yet. It’s just a cold breeze. Coming and going. Throwing itself into the world. Into houses, till they creek gently. Into the newspapers, till the paper tears. And into people, till they shudder softly.

Something is hanging in the air, something small, something great — it will be serious. He can feel it, the man by the newspaper stand searching the stacks for the latest edition of some scientific magazine he reads from time to time. The breeze is hitting him and he tries to ignore it, but of course the cold creeps into the open space his unclosed coat gives. It makes him shutter. And while his fingers fiddle with the buttons and the holes he finds himself staring into the distance. Wondering for a moment. Yes, there is something in the air that day. He forgets about the magazine, wandering down the road — unsure why. He simply follows an urge inside of him. This feeling brings him a couple of blocks uptown, when he suddenly stops, knowing he has arrived. Right across the street, the reason for it all.

 

An American Diner.

 

When he crosses the street he can look inside. It’s empty. Almost. Just a man, half his age talking to the waitress.

 

—

 

He has come a long way by now. He can’t be sure, because the last couple of centuries were a bit of a dashing blur, but by now this must be his 15th regeneration. Once again a male body. With blackish black hair, a complexion not black but also not white. By now, he knows how regeneration works — at least he believes so. Taking on appearances that are familiar, sort of echoes from the past.

After looking into a mirror he was fairly sure, he has seen this face before. Bennett, a man he has met so long ago, still he wasn’t entirely sure. Although, the sad expression on his face was something he hadn’t been able to forget.

It must be true, this regeneration looked like the man, who lost the woman he had loved once so much before being able to tell her. With the face, old memories came back, the last two regenerations had been able to suppress.

Memories which didn’t let him take his usual catnaps. Didn’t let him have the usual fun saving the universe or pranking some Daleks. Memories so adamant that one day he decided to do the only thing possible, so he could go on without them.

The problem was, the only thing possible was; the impossible. Knowing this he grinned into the void of the console room, flipping some levers and pushing some buttons because the impossible always had been his favourite thing.

Once he had told one of his companions about regeneration, about the fact, that it was a bit like dying. But not quite.

The truth was that there was another trick to it. Because, the question was, where did they go, those old faces when they regenerated? A new regeneration barely wonders about it, because it is all so new. New teeth, new hair, kidneys and all that nonsense. Not want to talk about the amnesia.

‘Where do they go?’ he wondered, and turned once more to the past, because the answer never can lay in the future, but only in the past.

 

_ >>And in years to come you might find yourself revisiting a few…<< _

 

Oh, how he had cracked his brain over that quote over and over again. And then one night the answer came to him like a forgotten idea, that returns at 3 o’clock in the morning like the Tardis crashing against an invisible wall.

 

So he went looking for her, the woman he once knew so well. The woman he once wanted to tear the universe down for — to rebuild it entirely around her and him, till nothing was left except their love for each other. The woman he first forgot, and later remembered again. The woman that echoed through all his regenerations. Not because she was so special — as said for one regeneration she was, but because it all had been left undone. The song not finished yet. The melody in his head like a tinnitus, like an echo from the past, reminding him to bring it all together again. Pull a trick. Make it happen. That’s why he went looking for the impossible woman. For Clara Oswald and her American Diner.

 

And when he found her, slap-bang in the middle of London, he knew the intergalactic puzzle was about to fall into place.

 

—

 

She would recognize him anywhere in time and space. No matter what gender, what face or what alien race he had regenerated into. One recognizes the Doctor when one comes across him. She also remembered Bennett, and for a moment was in doubt, but the way his head tilted, the way he smiled gently at her, betrayed him. Because Clara Oswald had seen all his regenerations before 12. All the little ticks, quirks and traits, she knew by heart — every Doctor a mix of new and old.

 

Happy and delight, before it stung in her heart. She had spent centuries poncing around the universe, making the most of her last second between one heartbeat and the next. Perceiving that you can run all you like, wherever you like, as long as you like, that it won’t make you arrive anywhere as long as you haven’t dealt with the past.

Her past was a man with no memory at all about her. A man who had wanted to burn Gallifrey for her when necessary. Together they would have torn the universe in two, with all the Power they had possessed. Given a Time Lord and a Tardis was dangerous in wrong hands.

 

A past, impossible to deal with — till now.

 

—

The Doctor explains carefully what is possible. And what is not. A life together, with the man who had ‘died’ ages ago. A mortal life. Running yes. Time and space no. Adventures maybe, bound to earth. Her Tardis couldn’t be anymore should she choose the life he offers. He deal with the Time Lords about her last second he promises, also making sure she would turn up for the raven when the mortal life was ending.

It was all he could offer. A couple of years, two decades — maybe more. And he sees she is willing. The puzzle carefully gets shoved into place by himself. Even more when he turns to look over his shoulder, noticing a man outside the Diner, staring at it as if seeing a ghost. A ghost it probably is.

 

Clara shakes the hand of the Doctor, golden light emerging. Then she watches him leave for one last time, knowing they never meet again. Not in this life or another.

 

Stepping out of the Diner, he throughs the grey-haired man a smile. It is like looking into a dusted mirror discovering old secrets once again. Such joy, he thinks.

 

“John Smith?” he asks, holding out a hand to shake.

 

The called man grabs it, following the urge inside of him. There is something familiar with the younger, and when he feels the warmth of his hand, a golden light runs through him, and everything makes sense again.

 

‘Of course,’ John Smith thinks and both men share a knowing smile. “It’s like…”

 

“...revisiting a few old faces,” the Doctor nods. “There is someone waiting for you.”

 

The Doctor is about to go when his old self is stopping him, “You should have forgotten about me a long time ago. No regeneration is responsible for the last.”

 

“We both know that is not true,” he smiles gently down the pavement, his hands hidden in the pockets of his brown coat. Will someone takes the same responsible for him as he did for 12? “Because if not, what sense is all make then? Because if not, it really would be like dying, wouldn’t it?” He vanishes in his Tardis, without a goodbye.

 

The man who once was the Twelfth Doctor enters the diner, finding Clara Oswald in the middle of the room waiting for him. He has not much to offer — only a human life he is granted with. In another universe, he knows about Ten and the one companion he couldn’t get out of his head.

 

The Twelfth Doctor steps up to her, smiling down before pulling her into a spinning hug, “Clara, my Clara!”

 

“My daft old man!” she cheers, her face pressed into his neck. She won't let go, not ever again.

 

When he is out of breath, he gently lets her down, giving her his goofy grin and she only can grin back. 'This', they both think, 'is happiness'. _This_ was worth it all.

 

Clara gives the moment a sigh and he cocks an eyebrow at her. He knows what she wants, but because she is the bossy one and he the clever one he simply waits.

 

And then, as usual, she has to go onto her tiptoes to kiss him. And as usual, he holds her tight, lifting her from the ground again. She giggles, he hums.

 

Yes, this!

 

The puzzle now in place.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sucker for these two idiots! Can't help it.   
> I'm going to ship Whouffaldi for 4,5 Billion years and then 500 more, that's for sure.
> 
> In case you enjoyed this story leave me a comment and/or a kudo. Would love to read your idea about all this.


End file.
